


A Different Kind of Pilot

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: For the AU headcanons thing: what would have happened if Scully had been assigned to Quantico when Mulder had been working with Diana Fowley (maybe their relationship was rocky at that point? you decide), and M+S crossed paths working on a case?





	A Different Kind of Pilot

1  
She’s heard all about him but only seen the back of him, walking the corridors with a stride that strikes her as single-minded but thoughtful. Something about his gait, the pattern of his steps. She’s intrigued, of course. Spooky Mulder is a name that floats off the tongues of agents and instructors alike, like a ghost haunting the building, lurking in corners and disappearing behind closing doors. Today, she’s finished her lecture and is taking a look at some samples in the lab. Jack has promised to take her out later but she’s tired and cranky and really just wants to slump in front of the tv with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.   
Outside, she hears a woman’s voice, commanding to the point of imposing. Scully can’t help but lift her head from the microscope and listen. There’s a man’s voice too but his tone seems defeated. His one-word responses give away the dynamics in the relationships, she thinks, as she looks back at the slide. She wonders if that’s how her relationship with Jack comes across. She’s lost the will to spend hours talking to him, these days.   
The virus sample is unlike anything she’s ever seen but she’s too fatigued to think further than that ice-cream so she finishes up, still conscious of the debate outside. When there’s a lull, she takes a chance and opens the door. She narrowly misses hitting the tall brunette.  
“Excuse me,” the woman snaps.  
Scully stops. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” she says and looks beyond the glare of the agent, one Diana Fowley, according to her name badge, to see Fox Mulder skulking away, jacket over his shoulder, head down.  
“Do you have the Planter samples in there?”  
“Planter…? Um, yes. I think so, but I’ve just fini…”  
“I need to see them.”

 

2  
She’s jogging in the drizzle, fighting off last night’s pasta, rushed down at an ungodly hour after Jack had been late for their date. She’s wasn’t even angry. It seems to her that the relationship has simply run its course. She should just say it, she’s musing, as she runs over the bizarre conversation she had with Agent Fowley yesterday.   
“I can’t tell you what’s happening here because I’ve never seen it before. It’s a virus. But I can’t tell you more than that, Agent Fowley.”  
“I need answers. Who do I need to see?” Fowley’s chin was permanently tilted upwards, arms wrapped tightly around her middle for the entire exchange. Scully felt her lack of experience, and height, even more heavily when exposed to this kind of interrogation. It was something she had to work on. Learn to make her presence felt just as surely as Fowley did.  
“I could ask…”  
“Call me. It’s urgent.” Fowley thrust a card in her hand. “Lives may be at stake.”  
She runs until her lungs burn. She’d called Carla, a virologist buddy from the Academy labs. Described the virus and its rapid mutation. Carla had promised to take a look and Scully had faxed her the details but there had been no word yet.   
Now, she’s bent over, hands braced on knees, heaving out breaths. She sees the running shoes, the grey jogging bottom legs approaching her, slowing, stopping opposite. She raises herself up and finds herself face to chest with Fox Mulder.

 

3  
“Agent Scully?” He proffers a long hand and she takes it automatically, letting his fingers wrap around her own. “I’m Fox Mulder, I’ve been assigned to look for you.”  
“Assigned?”  
He barks a laugh of surprise, then looks away, embarrassed. “I mean, my partner and I have been calling you. Agent Fowley, she met with you the other day. About the Planter samples?”  
“Yes, I’m waiting on a call from a virologist colleague. Viruses aren’t my area of expertise.”  
He drops her hand and nods, curtly. It’s as though he’s suddenly remembered what his task was. “I was under the impression that you…”  
She thinks back to Fowley. “If you have any doubt about my qualifications or credentials…”  
His shoulders slump. “No,” he says, hand up. “No. I don’t.” He emphasises the I and, unexpectedly, places his hand on the small of her back, guiding her along the path to the Academy building. “You’re a medical doctor, you teach at the Academy, you did your undergraduate degree in physics.” He looks down at her, rain drops studding his glasses. Einstein’s Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation. Dana Scully Senior Thesis. Now that’s a credential, rewriting Einstein.” He grins.  
“Did you bother to read it?”   
His expression softens. “I did. I liked it.” They arrive at the door and he opens it for her. “It’s just that in most of my work, the laws of physics rarely seem to apply.”  
“You might find it’s the laws of biochemistry that might be more applicable to your strange virus, Agent Mulder.”  
“Why do you say strange, Scully?”  
There’s an unexpected reaction to the use of her surname. She likes it.

4  
In her office, he takes a phone call. His has one of those new cellphones, button antenna poking up from the top. She wonders about the necessity to be available all the time, but supposes you can’t stop the advance of technology. Her desk phone trills. She answers as Mulder finishes his call.   
“I’ll call you back,” she says and hangs up as Jack tries to rush out his offer of a date at Magellan’s. The phone rings again. She cuts off the call.  
“Boyfriend trouble?” Mulder says with a conspiratorial grin. She leans on her elbows, doesn’t give him the response he wants. “Your virologist colleague? Can we see her? We need those results.”  
“She’s doing me a favour.”  
“Is there any reason why we can’t see her, right now? It’s important, Scully. This case…it could redefine the way we investigate the paranormal.”  
Her eyebrows rise to a point she didn’t know they could reach. “Paranormal?” Her tone, she knows, is just a tad shy of shrill and at that moment, Diana Fowley walks in. No knocking. She just takes her place next to Mulder so there is no light between them and looks down at Scully. Physically and figuratively.  
“What’s the problem?”   
Scully tidies the pile of notes on her desk and stands. She grabs her coat from the back of the door and turns to face Fowley. There’s a knot of something in her gut. Fear? Maybe. Anger? Definitely. But also resolve. She’s determined not to let a woman belittle her. Women in institutions like this, she thinks, should support each other. But now is not the time to debate the finer points of the sisterhood. Mulder is looking at his feet. “I don’t know,” she says, straightening her spine, “are you expecting one?”

5  
Carla explains the similarities and differences between viruses she’s seen and the Planter sample. It’s a fascinating field and Scully listens intently, trying to ignore the waves of antagonism emanating from Fowley. On the way to the lab, she alternately fawned over and pawed off Mulder’s attempts to insert himself into the situation. At one point, she took off, taking a call tucking the phone in the crook of her neck.  
Scully took her chance. “Paranormal? What does that even mean?”  
“Unexplained cases, left to rot in the basement of the Hoover Building, Scully. There are piles of them. I’ve devoured each one. And this virus. This could be the key to solving some of the biggest questions in the X-Files.”  
“X-Files?” Ahead of them, Fowley had finished her call and was waiting for them to catch up. “Is this about building your career?”  
“No, Scully. It’s far more important than that.” And she knows he means it.  
She’s still feeling contrite when Fowley asks for the findings to be faxed over instantly. Carla nods and takes her report to the machine in the far corner of the lab.  
“This could be it,” Mulder says to Fowley as they leave the lab. Scully struggles to keep up with their loafing strides. His face is a mask of awe. Whatever Scully thinks about his bizarre workload, it’s clear he’s driven, passionate and desperate to solve this particular case. She’s guessing that its implications might be even more wide-ranging than his Monty Propps work.   
Fowley doesn’t bat an eyelid, even with his enthusiasm on overdrive. He’s practically bouncing around like a toddler on a pogo stick. His hands flay out from his sides. His voice rises and rises. As they near the exit and grey slants of watery sunshine filter through the door, Fowley stops. She looks over her shoulder at Scully. Waits a second before putting a hand flat on Mulder’s chest.  
“This isn’t it,” she says and walks through the door, leaving it swinging.  
“What was that about?” Scully asks, watching Fowley walk across the courtyard.  
The sound of his jacket hitting the wall with a dull thud makes her heart lurch. From wonderstruck kid to wounded adult in one strike of a woman’s tongue. She wonders if Jack would take her decision that badly.  
“Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” he asks out of nowhere.  
“Logically, I’d have to say no,” she begins but he walks past her to the door, shoulder hitting hers. She thinks about the virus. It’s strange presentation. It hits her like a bolt of lightning and she runs outside after him. “Mulder!”  
The way he waits for her, like she’s his new best friend, takes her back to high school and the unlikely allies formed in the hallways. She looks up at him. “I want to believe.”


End file.
